


The Inner Hebrides Ghost

by Megkips



Category: Lord El-Melloi II Case Files
Genre: Gen, Ghost Stories, Mages behaving badly, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megkips/pseuds/Megkips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having taken apart the Holy Grail five years ago, Rin and Waver are called in by a fellow Association mage to look into odd happenings related to a local ghost on the Scottish island of Lismore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Inner Hebrides Ghost

Scotland is _beautiful._

At least, this specific part of Scotland is, Rin thinks, looking down and out over Loch Linnhe. The water below is a clear, deep blue today, with no sign of turbulence. The only sounds around her are the wind, and the distant bleats of sheep as they graze the area, acting as nature’s lawn mowers. Spray from the loch below fills the air, and Rin imagines that from behind, with the wind blowing her hair and her skirt, she must look like some great painting hung in a gallery, full of contemplation at the landscape around her.

The illusion lasts until Waver approaches, clearing his throat to announce himself. “I can’t believe you walked out this far,” he says, coming to stand beside her. Unlike Rin, his hair is pulled back, and kept in place with a black hair tie. He elbows her gently, and grins. “And in flats.”

Rin shrugs, elbowing him back. “Two kilometers isn’t that bad,” she replies. “And this _is_ all Lord Mag-Kimel V’s property, so it isn’t like I’m straying.”

“True,” Waver says, seating himself down next to Rin. She glances down as Waver tugs his coat out from under his bottom, and clicks her tongue. The grass is _wet_ and he’s happy to sit in it.

“You’re going to get mobbed by sheep in five minutes.”

“Only goats mob people, Rin.”

Rin rolls her eyes, and lowers herself down beside him. “You know, I feel like I ought to be mad at you for not telling me that up north is so much prettier than London. I’ve spent _fifteen years_ missing out on this!”

Waver snorts, and Rin runs her hand over the grass. It is impossibly green, and impossibly soft to the touch. “You were a student,” he says. “I needed you to focus on your studies. And then we had to plan on how to take apart a Grail, and then,” Waver finishes with a grand gesture, his arm sweeping out over the loch. From the cliff’s height, it looks like he’s addressing the whole body of water below. “We’re here now. You know where to go. No complaining.”

“I,” Rin counters, haughty and proud. “Will complain whenever I like about your failures to educate me on every matter.” 

“Yeah, well,” Waver says, leaning back so that his forearms and elbows are supporting the full of his weight. “We’re apparently getting educated on why Lord Mag-Kimal called us up here tonight at dinner.”

“You mean why he called in the owed favour,” she corrects. Taking apart the Grail had meant going to too many magi and offering help in the future. In Lord Mag-Kimel’s case, he had given considerable financial backing to the whole enterprise. “I’m not looking forward to learning what’s so big and terrifying that it’s _worth_ calling us in.”

“Neither am I,” Waver admits. “But at least we get a holiday out of it.”

Rin nods in agreement. “And I know where to drag the wife next for a proper vacation.”

“You sure Yurika’s going to be up for nothing but nature as far as the eye can see?” he asks, trying to hide a smile at the thought. “She’ll enjoy the nature for a day and th--”

Rin smirks, watching as realization dawns on Waver’s face. Realization becomes flushing bright red, and she lets out a long, long laugh. “Took you long enough!”

“I hate you,” Waver groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. 

“I know,” she beams in reply. “Dinner’s at what time?”

“Seven. We’ve got about two hours. You gonna spend it here looking at the water?”

“No,” Rin says, picking herself up off the ground. “I was going to keep moving, maybe head down to the shore. You coming?”

Waver pauses, casting a glance over his shoulder. Rin grins, watching a few particularly voracious sheep inch closer. Waver picks himself up quickly, dusting off grass from his rear.

“I think so, yes.”

“Told you,” Rin says, a hint of pride in her voice as she begins to walk southwards, towards a path she saw that leads down to the water. “Mobbed by sheep in five minutes. _Not_ goats.”

***

Rin and Waver walk into the small stone farmhouse of their host just as the grandfather clock installed in the entrance hall chimes seven.

“I was beginning to wonder if you two had gotten lost,” their host calls from the house’s depths. “I’m in the kitchen!”

“Ah,” Rin says to herself, as Waver closes the door behind them both. 

“Still not used to the volume?” Waver asks as he walks past Rin, down the corridor towards the kitchen.

“Oh hush,” Rin says, pointedly rolling her eyes. Her flats scuff across the hardwood floor of the house, and onto the tile floor of the kitchen-slash-dining room. 

Combining both rooms into one is a necessity, given the house’s size. The dining table sits in the far corner, three chairs around it and out of the way. There are place settings, of course, but the food rests on the tiny kitchen counter. 

Standing over the food, his palms braced against the counter to support his weight, is William Strachan, Lord Mag-Kimal V, looking perfectly at home. While about Waver’s height, the man’s girth is greater thanks to his broad shoulders and great muscles. His beard, once black as crows if the Association discussion is anything to go by, is grey, flecked with patches of white. His hair, cut short and kept neat, matches the beard’s colour.

“Perfect timing,” he says, his cheerful tone not changing volume as Rin and Waver enter. “Mutton, roast potatoes, and roast carrots are all acceptable for dinner, yes?”

“Of course,” Waver says, as Rin says, “Thank you, it smells excellent.”

Rin takes the seat that faces towards the counter, Waver taking the one to her right. They exchange impressed glances as the hunk of mutton leg - lovingly roasted, sprigs of thyme still resting atop it - is placed on the table, and as William carves it, Rin is tasked with opening the bottle of red wine. The corkscrew she’s given is tarnished, proudly showing its age. It squeaks a little as she drives it into the bottle’s cork, but there is no struggle to take the cork itself out. A cheerful _pop_ sounds, and there’s a sharp smell of Bordeaux in the air, rich and heady. 

“I’ll pour, Miss Tohsaka,” William says, holding his hand out for the bottle.

Rin smiles. “I’ve got it.”

Glasses filled, and plates full, the meal begins in earnest. The mutton itself is unbelievably well cooked - a perfect pink in the middle, herbs and olive oil on the skin that enhance the meat’s gaminess. To match, the potatoes and carrots have been roasted with thyme and generous amounts of olive oil, and after Rin’s eaten everything on the plate, she goes back for more.

“I’m glad that my sheep meet your approval,” William says, watching as Rin cuts into her second serving of meat.

“Is this one of the sheep you’ve raised here?” Waver asks, spearing a potato with his fork.

William nods. “Mostly, they’re around for wool and taking care of the mowing, but every so often--”

“Was this something your family did in the past?” Rin follows up. “Raising sheep, I mean, not eating them.”

“It’s an additional source of income,” William replies. “But not my primary one. Lord knows that my family holds enough patents with the Association that include massive royalties since oh, what,” he pauses, and Rin imagines he must be running through dates in his head. “The 1700s, I suppose. Long enough, in any case. Not that the Association’s always been timely with sending out those royalties.”

Rin blinks in surprise. “Really?”

There’s a hearty laugh, and William beams at Rin. “Are they timely with the Tohsaka royalties?”

“Isn’t it rude to ask about the financial status of one’s guests?”

“You _did_ bring it up first,” Waver points out.

“Hush,” Rin hisses, giving Waver a friendly kick under the table. 

“Rude or not,” William continues, unabashed. “The answer is no, most certainly not. Usual reasons why, and I’d say something about southern English residents, but I’d offend present company.”

Waver smiles thinly. “Appreciated William, although you know I wouldn’t contest your opinions of the Association at present.”

Rin tilts her head slightly. “I’ve missed something.”

William flaps a hand dismissively. “There’s a lovely stereotype of the southern English all being posh, flashy bastards, and the English disliking the Scots for various reasons.”

“Right,” Rin says, dragging out the _i_. “Is that in part why you agreed to help us take on the Association back when the Grail was under uhm,” she stops, not sure what the right word is. “De-construction?”

“In part,” William says, taking a sip of his wine. “The rest was that I agreed with the principles your lordly associate outlined about hypocrisy in the Association’s decisions. Plus, my family has connections to the late Sola-ui’s family, which was another reason that I gave you all the funding that I did.”

Rin takes a bite of her meat and nods in understanding. Once she’s swallowed, she says, “I do appreciate the help, and the insight into your reasoning for supporting us.”

“Think nothing of it,” William says. “Although I suppose that we might as well discuss why I’ve asked you both here.” He leans back in his seat, bringing the wine glass with him. “Apologies for ending the holiday aspect of all this.”

“It’s been a lovely two day break,” Waver says.

“Mmhmm,” Rin agrees, taking another sip of her wine. “And truth be told, we’ve both been curious about why you’ve called in the owed favour. What’s going on?”

“The long and short of it is that I _don’t_ know what’s going on,” William begins. His voice’s natural gruffness is tempered by honest confusion. “Beyond something decidedly weird has been happening.”

Waver frowns, unimpressed. “ _Weird_ ,” he repeats. “William, you’ve got to give us more than that.”

“You have no idea how stories work, do you, Velvet?” William asks in retort. “Let me get through the prologue, mm?”

“Sorry.”

Rin snickers, and William begins again. “There’s an old story on the island about a bagpiper and his dog going into a particular cave at night - going in, spending a night in the cave, then emerging at dawn was a sign that you were officially a man, according to local custom at the time. That night, his bagpipes played, but come morning, the boy never came out of the cave. It was only the dog, and the poor thing was terrified and blind. It was assumed that the boy drowned in a cave pool.

“Anyway. Bagpipes at night have been a rumoured thing for as long as anyone can remember, and they’ve been heard in earnest across Lismore at night for the past few months. It wouldn’t be anything I’d be concerned about, but as of three weeks ago, there have been people found lying by the roadsides, nearly drained dry of magic energy

“Naturally, I’ve looked into the matter myself, but I haven’t found anything. I’m loathe to bring the whole thing up to the Association, simply because it’ll impact my studies here _and_ bring the various knobjockeys that claim to be magi to the place where my family’s been working for, oh, I guess the past five or six generations.”

“Hence us,” Rin concludes. 

William nods. “Precisely so, Miss Tohsaka.”

“But it sounds like you already know what’s the cause,” Waver says. “A bagpipe playing ghost. I mean, bagpipes are scary enough but--”

“Don’t forget you’re in Scotland,” William replies, the good cheer in his voice thin. 

Waver smiles, taking a sip of his own wine. “I’m well aware.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Rin cuts in pointedly. “We’re looking at a potential ghost.”

“Basically,” William confirms. “Or at least someone making good use of a ghost story.”

Rin props an elbow up on the table, and rests her chin atop her hand. “What’s the real likelihood of someone faking that?” 

“Miniscule.”

Waver looks to Rin. “Do you have any experience with ghosts from managing Fuyuki?”

“Not at all,” Rin says cheerfully. “You?”

“Nope. And we wouldn’t be here if William had past experiences, so,” Waver concludes. “I suppose we’re all flying blind.”

“Lovely,” Rin replies grimly.

William laughs. “Worry yourself about all of that tomorrow, when I throw my research at you. All I wanted to do this evening was give you both an overview of the situation. Besides, there’s pudding to eat first, and scotch.”

“Well, the last one is only natural,” Waver says. “Rin, you’ve never had scotch before, have you?”

Rin shakes her head no. “And I can tell by the fact you’re starting to grin in that way you grin when I’m about to not enjoy something, it isn’t going to be to my taste, is it?”

“We’ll see,” is the response, coupled with Waver’s grin growing wider. Rin shakes her head, and finishes the rest of her wine in one go.

“Let’s help with the dishes, before you delight in my horror.”

“Very well.”

***

Rin stands over Waver’s shoulder, the two of them staring down a map of Lismore. Waver’s iPad sits to the far end of the table, his coffee cup beside it. Rin’s own mug of thick, black, bitter brew is in her hand - the third cup of the morning - and she takes a sip.

“What do you think?” Waver asks, leaning back and turning to face Rin. There are reading glasses on his face, and they slide down his nose as he looks up.

“One,” Rin says. “I think that I shouldn’t have enjoyed three glasses of scotch plus an extra glass of wine, as I have a mini-hangover. Two, I think those look silly on you, even if they’re practical. Three, I think that you need to move out of the way so that I can actually see all the material on this table. Four, I would also suggest you stay quiet, both out of respect for the mini-hangover and so that I can concentrate.”

Waver pushes his chair out and away from the table, permitting Rin to look closer at the map. She frowns, and leans closer. The red dots move slowly up the island - south to north - each marked with a date. 

“Oldest attack is the southernmost,” she murmurs to herself, more than to Waver. “There’s no consistency to the dates though.”

“That’s what I thought, and what William said to me when he brought this map out,” Waver says. “You’d figure if energy being drained was a problem, these sort of attacks would be more regular.”

“Mmm.” Rin sets her coffee mug down beside the map, and puts a finger to the paper. She moves it in reverse order, fingers tracing over every dot. After a moment, Rin stops, and looks to Waver. “Are these all along the main road?”

Waver peers closer, nudging Rin’s finger out of the way. “It looks that way,” he says, after a moment. “Excluding a few outliers, and those look like they were from before whatever we’re dealing with hit the An T-sraid.”

“And they’re moving further and further north,” Rin says, replacing her finger on the map and tracing it up the spine of the main road. “Whatever it is is moving slowly, but it’s heading towards more and more populated areas. I guess the big one is--” she pauses, letting her eyes move ahead. “Port Ramsay.”

A deep frown crosses Waver’s face. “This thing could be smart enough to hop a boat and get to the mainland.”

“Creating more trouble, bringing attention to itself, and if the origin’s discovered, getting Lord Mag-Kimal into massive problem with the Association,” Rin concludes quickly. “This thing’s two-thirds of the way up the island, giving us a small window of opportunity to try and address the problem.”

“Which means that starting tonight, we’ve got try try and intercept it.”

Rin nods. “Exactly. Although I think we now have to ask ourselves the question _how do we fight a ghost_?”

“What we assume is a ghost,” Waver corrects gently. “And I don’t know, we’re going to have to ask William and wing it from there.”

“Get moving then,” Rin says with a razor thin smile. “I’ll work on seeing what else I can pull out of this map, since a half-asleep me can get more out of it than you can when you’re fully awake.”

Waver rolls his eyes, and takes care to remove his reading glasses before excusing himself from the table. Rin maintains her grin as he walks out of the kitchen, and re-settles in his seat, pleased.

***

Ghost hunting, as it turns out, only requires the following items: a car to get one to the location of the anticipated ghost, a lantern for the sake of seeing where one is going, a mobile for emergency contacts, salt, iron filings, and the ability to sit all night along the roadside on the worst camping trip known to man.

Rin groans, flopping in the back of the Land Rover’s boot. “We’ve been sitting here for hours,” she says, aware that her favourite black skirt is askew and that pressing her face to the car’s carpeting is the opposite of elegant. “It’s not showing.”

“Don’t say that,” Waver says, still perched atop the tailgate. “We could still be surprised.”

“We could,” Rin agrees. “We could also be two very clever crows wearing people suits. But we’re not. We should call it a night, Waver.”

Waver sighs, digging his phone out to look at the time. “I’m still not confident about heading in.”

“The ghost’s attacks were always between eleven at night and four in the morning,” Rin says into the flooring. “What time is it now?”

“5:39.”

“Let’s just get back to William’s, sleep for the day, and head out again tomorrow night.” It isn’t a suggestion. “I’m all for me climbing into the driver’s seat right now and speeding off without you.”

“With me still sitting here?!”

“ _Yes._ ”

It’s amazing how fast Waver scrambles to his feet, and Rin doesn’t bother hiding her exhausted, delighted laugh at the fact he manages to fall out of the boot and onto the cold, dewy ground. When he picks himself up, Rin is sliding elegantly off the tailgate, and landing feet first. “Well,” she says cheerfully, walking around to the passenger’s side. “Let’s go.”

Waver rolls his eyes as he crosses over to the driver’s side. Rin’s door slams shut brightly, and Waver’s soon follows suit. The engine revs, and they begin the return drive.

***

Rin wakes with the announcement of dinner, and the meal is spent in relative quiet. Waver, as tired as Rin, has little to say, and while William’s lamb stew is certainly impressive - cobbled from leftovers and fresh garden vegetables - there’s little enthusiasm. The same mood carries from the house to the car, and from the car to the evening’s watch spot.

The night air is cool and still around the Land Rover, and Rin has to admit that sitting on the front end of the car isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. She sighs, and burrows deeper into the red hoodie she has on. “I can’t believe it’s only seven degrees celsius right now,” she mutters. “In the middle of _summer._ ”

“Scotland’s far north,” Waver says, from a little ways in front of her. “And we’re on an island, which means coastal breezes.” His own coat is pulled around him tightly, and Rin smirks as she watches Waver bury his hands into his pockets. “I think there was some quote I read ages ago about the Scots and how they treat summers, but I can’t recall it now. It was probably asin-” Waver pauses, and his entire body tenses. A single sharp note sounds, like someone testing out an instrument.

“I heard it,” Rin says, sliding off the car hood. “Do you have the supplies?”

A soft _tap_ of foot against plastic bucket responds, but any words that Waver says are left ignored. The sound of bagpipes - the melody low, mournful, a dirge - drifts from the west. 

There’s no communication at first. Rin walks ahead of Waver, the light of her magic crest glowing under the fabric of her hoodie. Waver carries the bucket as they walk, stalking through the grass, eyes everywhere. The bagpipes repeat the same notes at the same pace, and for what seems like an eternity, there’s no volume increase. 

“Rin,” Waver says softly, looking back the way they came. “I can’t see the car anymore--”

The reply is cut off by a sudden blast from the bagpipes, from all directions at once. One sharp, continuous note sounds instead, and Rin’s hands fly to cover her ears.

“Waver?!” she yells, hoping to be heard over the din. 

“Yeah!?” he returns, matching her volume. His hands are over his ears as well, and he looks around wildly. 

“Where’s the bucket?”

“By my feet!”

Rin groans as she leans down to try and find the salt container within, and the moment that she removes her hand from her right ear, the bagpipes sound even closer. She straightens up, cannister tucked under her arm, but only to see _something_ approaching. 

Rather than yell, Rin elbows Waver hard in the side, and turns his direction to the left. A bright blue-white light glows, floating just above the ground.

“Human shaped,” Waver yells, and dives for the bucket. “Aim!”

“Firing!” Rin bellows in response, ripping off the lid of the salt container. She licks her forefinger, dips it into the salt, and reinforces herself. A moment later, a gandr fires, hitting the light right in the middle.

The salt particles go through the light like birdshot, and for a moment, the thing looks as if it’s about to fall. 

“Anything?!” Waver asks, straightening up.

“Firing again!”

The glow’s speed increases, and Rin’s eyes widen as it does so. Rather than remain a glow, it shifts, redefines itself, and what should be a boy is a woman in a plain smock, her hair down, and arms outstretched. 

“That’s not--” Rin gapes, her arm still steady and ready to fire another gandr shot.

“No,” Waver agrees. He’s right behind her, chest pressed against her back, and Rin can feel him putting weight on her back. That’s a rare sign of nerves, and it’s what prompts Rin to say, “Car. _Now._ ”

Rin lowers her arm, and makes a point to grab Waver’s hand before turning and breaking into a run. The salt container is left behind, along with the plastic bucket of supplies. By some small miracle, the bagpipes have stopped, but they’ve been replaced with a single long, continuous scream of agony so intense that Rin finds herself missing the bagpipes. 

“Slow down!” Waver yells, and Rin responds by trying to tighten her grip on his hand. 

“Is it gaining?!”

“I don’t--” Waver looks back, and the sudden movement is just enough to cause Rin to let go. There’s a thud as Waver lands on the ground, and Rin’s own momentum causes her to keep moving a few more paces before she can turn herself around.

“ _Waver!_ ”

The ghost’s glow illuminates his figure, struggling to get up off the ground, but there’s a greater horror in the light. One of the ghost’s outstretched hands grabs Waver before he can break into a run, and the scream of sudden pain spurs Rin onward.

It’s a risk to let out another round of gandr shots with Waver so close, but Rin figures it’ll be enough get away time. Extending her right forearm, she lets out one shot, sinking it into the ghost’s head. A second, into the right shoulder. Third, into the left one. It’s enough to send the ghost reeling, and she can tell by the light that Waver’s rolled away. 

Fourth shot, this one in the head again. The ghost falls backward, finally, and Waver thunders past Rin. His right arm is stiff as he moves, and Rin notes it in passing.

“Come on,” she hisses at the ghost, only to realize that somewhere in the fire of gandr, the ghost’s cacophony had ceased, leaving the countryside silent yet again. The glow fades from where the thing fell, and Rin stares at the spot, waiting for something to happen.

There’s a door slamming shut with a dull _thud_ in the distance, and with that, Rin finally runs back to the Land Rover, covering the remaining distance with ease. She isn’t surprised to find Waver in the passenger seat, or shocked to see the car’s interior light on. 

“What did it do to you?” she asks as she climbs into the driver’s seat.

“I don’t know,” Waver says, extending his right arm slowly.

Rin inhales sharply as she looks at the damage. What should be perfectly healthy flesh looks as if it’s been held in ice for weeks, and there’s white blisters that look tender to the touch. Under them, there’s swelling, and Rin, for a moment, is speechless.

“What does it feel like?” she asks calmly, reaching over the armrest-slash-console-area between the two seats and grabbing her bag out of the back.

“It doesn’t feel like anything,” Waver says softly. His eyes are huge as he looks down.“If I didn’t see it here and now, I’d think I didn’t have an arm. Everything from my elbow down just isn’t there, Rin.”

Rin resettles herself in the seat, and pulls out a small, soft pouch. She takes out a single red gem, and places it atop Waver’s arm. “Don’t move,” she says, her free hand gently taking Waver’s wrist.

“I’m not,” Waver says, his face looking away. “Rin, we should get back to his lordship’s before you do anything. We don’t know if the ghost will come back and attack again.”

The glow fades, and Rin lets out a little _hmph_ sound. “You’re right,” she says, placing the gem back into the bag. “This’ll take too long to heal if we just sit here. Can you navigate?”

Waver nods. “Put your seat and mirrors to rights, and turn left on the main road, so that we’re heading south.”

Rin fiddles with the seats and mirrors for a moment, revs the car engine, and turns onto the road accordingly. The ride is silent, save for the occasional instruction or little gasp of pain coming from Waver as the numbness fades. 

Once parked, Rin hops out of the Land Rover and hurries to the passenger side of the door. Waver’s already leapt out, and she glares at him. “Let me do that for you!”

“I’m in pain, but I have another arm,” Waver snaps back, heading for the front door. “Kitchen table?”

“Yes,” Rin confirms, racing ahead and holding the front door open. Waver doesn’t protest as he passes through, and Rin follows him. 

There’s no time wasted as Waver sits himself at the kitchen table, and Rin pulls up another chair. Her gem bag goes on the counter, and she begins her work in earnest with the red stone from before.

“Be very still,” she instructs, before all of her attention turns to the injured arm. Carefully, Rin lets the gem’s prana out, using it to map the extent of the injury. The blisters are only the first layer, and as Rin goes down deeper and deeper, the effects of the ghost’s touch are more and more familiar. It’s supernatural frostbite, designed to keep a subject still while their energy is drained.

All the easier to reverse the damage. It’s easy enough to warm the prana to natural body temperature, and as Rin does so, the swelling flesh deflates. The blue is replaced by healthy pink, and finally, the only sign of the attack is the cluster of blisters on Waver’s forearm. 

“There,” Rin says, placing the gem down on the counter. It’s so much smaller now, and she glares at it sullenly. “You got hurt _real_ good, Waver.”

“I know,” he replies softly. “Thank you.”

Rin gets to her feet, and begins to walk towards the sink. “Don’t thank me yet, you’re going to want to keep that arm warm and wrapped for a little while longer. You think William’s got a wash basin around here?”

“Under the sink,” comes William’s voice, and he walks in from the entrance way. His green eyes go to Waver’s arm immediately, and he blinks in surprise. “What happened?”

“Ghost grabbed him,” Rin says, crouching down and opening the cabinet under the sink. True enough, there’s a plastic dish tub under it, and she takes it out. “He got supernatural frostbite from it.”

“And information,” Waver adds, as Rin turns the water on. “There’s bagpipes with the ghost, but your local legend about a young boy didn’t pan out. Our ghost is one middle aged woman, and she’s in pain.”

Rin snorts, turning the water off. “Correction, she _is_ a pain.”

She carries the dish tub over carefully, and places it on the table. Waver slides his arm in, relaxing as the warm water comes into contact with his skin. “That scream was one of absolute agony, Rin.”

“She could have caused you to lose a limb!”

“Stop, stop,” William interrupts, holding both of his hands up. “Fight tomorrow, after everyone’s better rested. Miss Tohsaka,” he continues, eyes moving to her. “Do you need anything else in regards to medical supplies?”

“Bandages,” Rin says. “Please. Antibiotic gel or anything soothing if you’ve got it.”

“One moment.”

William disappears, and Rin lets out a long sigh. “I am going to kick this ghost’s ass.”

“What, by gandring it _again?_ ” Waver asks dryly.

“It worked!”

“Yes,” Waver agrees. “And then made the ghost more pissed off.”

Rin’s reply is cut off by William’s return. A bottle of aloe is placed on the table alongside a box of sterile bandages. 

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” William says, dismissing himself before either can respond. Waver sighs, relieved, and Rin echos him.

“Lets let it stay in the water a little longer, then get you bandaged up,” Rin says, finally letting exhaustion creep into her voice. “Agreed?”

Waver nods, carefully flexing some of his fingers under water. A sharp hiss escapes him first, then he nods. “Agreed.”

***

Rin squints when she wakes up the next morning. 10:43, and no one’s dared to rouse her out of bed, or even open the door. Unusual that she’d be permitted to sleep that late.

Her eyes move from the clock to her bedroom window. Beams of sunlight peek through the blinds, all too cheerful and confirming that it is _genuinely_ that late. With an unladylike groan, Rin forces herself out of bed. 

The light blue padded slippers do little to soften the creaks of the stairs as she descends them, and when Rin enters the kitchen, Waver and William are set up at the table, poring over laptops, books, and iPads. 

“Coffee’s in the carafe,” is Waver’s greeting, and he doesn’t even lift his head as he addresses her.

Rin grunts in response, and heads over to the machine. Pouring the warm, black liquid out into the cup, she savours the rich, smoky scent, then replaces the carafe. As Rin sips at the coffee, pausing to feel the caffeine slowly bring her into the realm of functioning, snippets of conversation filter in.

“The theory’s an interesting one, but I don’t know if that would hold.”

“But it would explain the appearance, and the screaming.”

“True, but we have no records of such a thing happening on the island. This isn’t the Lowlands, where those trials were as common.”

“We’re not coming up with anything more plausible.”

The conversation continues, and Rin refills her cup. By the time she’s done with it, the conversation has looped back to where she first paid attention, giving her all the signal she needs to participate.

“What’d I miss?” she asks, approaching.

William responds, voice gruff. “We have a working theory, but it isn’t exactly solid.”

“We think our ghost might have been a mage at one point,” Waver says, nudging the one remaining chair towards Rin. “And probably killed during the witch hunts.”

The expectant look on Waver’s face is what stops Rin from voicing the flat little _oh_ that rests on her lips. William frowns, and gestures to Rin. “Told you, it isn’t a good theory,” he says.

“Er,” Rin replies instead, finally taking the offered seat. “How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“The clothing that our ghost was wearing looked pretty old fashioned,” Waver begins. “Unfortunately, that’s not a lot to go on - and the only reason that I think she’s a mage was that I thought I saw the glow of a magic crest when I was close up with her last night.”

Rin nods slowly. “Okay.”

“Her hair though, the ends looked burnt,” he continues. “I couldn’t tell if there was any scarring around her neck, but it’s likely. That scream she was emitting though, that’s what made me suspect it might be--”

“--Hang on, hang on,” Rin blurts out. “I know what the witch trials are vaguely, but--”

“--Oh,” Waver and William chorus together, their voices low. The looks that they exchange are solemn ones. 

“I guess you wouldn’t have been told about the impact on the European mage community, “ Waver murmurs softly. “One of the advantages of being so far removed.”

“In brief,” William says, letting Waver lapse into silence. “The witch hunts in Europe were a period of deep seated terror for the magi here. A lot of families in the first to fourth generations were executed thanks to the belief in witches, and even more people who were non-magic users perished because of faulty assumptions.”

“Huge gender disparity too,” Waver adds. “The fear of legal authorities finding out about magi and executing them is one of the reasons that the Association puts such a great emphasis on secrecy today. They’re terrified that it might happen again.”

William sighs heavily. “No one can blame them. Families that survived the hunts have spells in their crests meant to aid and protect in case of such events.”

Waver clears his throat, picking up as William trails off. “Scotland had more trials and executions than England, which is why the combination of seeing what might be a crest, burnt hair, the clothing you’d essentially wear to be executed in, and that much agony coming from one spirit made me suspect we might be looking at someone whose life was lost during that particular period of history.”

“I can see the conclusion,” Rin says finally, trying to maneuver around the fact that the room feels as if it has had a layer of lead added to it, weighing everything down. “But I overheard William saying that there would be no way for it to be correct, because none of that happened here?”

“Which is why,” Waver says, tapping the screen of his iPad awake. “I started to look at the loch’s currents, as well as the currents near by. There’s a chance she could have been buried on or near the coast, and been washed away.”

“What your friend here isn’t considering,” comes William’s voice, back to its usual good cheer. “Is how damn rare that sort of burial is, and how the Lowlands buried their executed isn’t necessarily how it would have been done in this area.”

“All I’ve said,” Waver snaps back, tapping at the iPad again. “Is that it is a possibility to keep in mind.” _Tap. Taptap. Tap._ “Here, read this, Rin.”

Waver hands Rin the device unceremoniously, a page in the browser pulled up to a BBC article entitled _How to bury a witch._ “Jeez,” she says softly, beginning to read the article. Slowly but steadily, Rin’s mouth turns downward, becoming a frown. The idea of being killed for ridiculous accusations is one thing, but being buried in wet mud, with a stone over the grave, only to have body parts taken years after is one that gives her pause. Finally, she places the iPad down on the table, and looks to Waver. “That wasn’t the norm, was it?”

She watches as Waver’s eyes flick over to William, who responds with, “It wasn’t common.”

“But you can see why our ghost would scream as she did,” Waver concludes. “The question is, now that we have an idea of what we’re dealing with, how do we proceed? Besides carefully.”

That’s firmer ground for Rin. “We need to prevent it from getting on to the mainland, that much we can agree on, right?”

Two voices respond, “Right.”

“Maybe we should find where it came from,” she suggests. “I mean, if Waver’s right about the current then maybe her bones have washed up on the southern part of the island.”

William makes a sudden noise. It could be Scotsman for _eureka_ for all that Rin knows. “Hang on,” he says. “We need to stop and ask ourselves that if her bones being moved is what’s driven our ghost friend here to the path she’s taken, then why wouldn’t she have been haunting the water? The ships in the loch?”

“Salt?” Rin asks. “I mean, she reacted to the salt mixed with my gandrs last night--”

“It’d check out,” Waver says. “The salt water keeps her spirit back, then removed from that environment, we get the ghost we dealt with last night. Sure, there’s salt in the sand, but if it isn’t as heavily concentrated as the water’s salt level is--”

William nods, eyes moving down to the map on the table - the one that charts the attacks. “We should try and figure out where her remains might be then, and either destroy them, or pack them in salt so that this can be contained.”

Rin looks down at the dots on the map, and sighs. There’s attacks at the bottom, but no path to follow. “We’ll be off-roading for a bit, it looks it.”

“And someone who isn’t me will have to drive,” Waver chimes in. “Since I’m effectively useless.”

“Thanks for calling yourself dead weight so I didn’t have to,” Rin smiles, patting Waver’s good arm. “Er, William? Are you going to come with us?”

“I think,” William says, leaning back in his chair. “I’m going to patrol the stretch of road where you lot were this evening, in case there’s any sign of where she’ll strike next. I’d like to analyze any remaining energy in the area as well, if you don’t mind.”

Waver looks to Rin. She nods to him, then turns and nods to William. “Call Waver’s mobile if you find anything?”

“A very fine plan,” William agrees. “Let’s clean the table off, have lunch, and go our separate ways.”

***

Lismore flies past the car windows. Rin grips the steering wheel of the Land Rover tightly as she continues down the main road, eyes sharp for any passing sheep. Waver remains in the passenger seat, resting his bandaged hand in his lap and using his free one to hold the GPS tightly.

“How many kilometers until we run out of road, Waver?” she asks.

“About ten, from the looks of it. We’re ending at a farm, so we could well be trespassing on private property.”

“They can deal with it.”

The car continues on in silence. Green grass continues to pass by, the bright whites and purples of roadside flowers making the world just a little brighter. It’d be a lovely day, Rin thinks to herself, if she wasn’t out hunting the ghost of an angry mage.

After a while longer, Waver nudges Rin with his free arm, and indicates the GPS. “We’ll be going off road presently.”

“No, I couldn’t have figured that out by the fact we’re literally at the end of the road,” Rin says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Can you get the buttons into off-road mode here?”

“Sure. Pull over and put it in park.”

Rin does just that, happy to let Waver fiddle with the sheer amount of technology that newer cars insist on having. She sighs, watching him poke the console screen. Why onboard computers that control everything in the car are such a damn necessity when everything worked just fine in the past is frankly beyond her.

“All right,” Waver says, straightening up. “Let’s move.”

“Happily,” Rin says, taking the car out of park and beginning to brace herself for the amount of shifting required. The rocky outcrops had only grown as they headed south, and now, moving on towards the beach, Rin can only be pleased that she knew to expect it.

Waver jostles in the seat beside her, letting out the occasional yelp of surprise as the car moves over the massive rocks. Rin smirks whenever he does, and coaxes the car forward, laughing as they succeed. 

“Slower!” Waver yells as they begin the downward incline towards the beach itself. 

“That,” Rin laughs triumphantly. “Is gravity, not me!”

“Still, slow down,” Waver snaps. “This area’s getting too rocky, we should continue on foot.”

“I’m not exactly keen to do that after the last time, Waver.”

“We’re looking for bones, we’re not doing anything else.”

Rin pauses, and takes a moment to look at the terrain around them. “I see something fairly flat over there. We’ll park, and then continue to the shoreline. Deal?”

“Deal.”

It takes little time to park the car, and to unload the new supplies of salt and iron. With containers in hand, they continue down towards the beach itself. 

The stones beneath Rin’s and Waver’s feet vary in colour - some are black as pitch, others a light grey, others the same sandy colour of Clock Tower’s walkways. All of the croppings around them peek out of perfectly green grass, and the sharp, salty loch air is invigorating.

“All right,” Waver says, when they hit the beach proper. “Ultimate question: do we want to risk a tracking spell, and draw the attention of the ghost, or just look around on foot for a while?”

“No magecraft,” Rin replies somberly. “We can’t risk drawing her attention”

“All right.”

Rin blinks at the lack of argument, and watches as Waver begins to head south along the beach, his boots leaving heavy foot prints in the sand below. Her own shoes - flats, of course - leave lighter traces, but the grains happily find their way into the exact places where Rin doesn’t want them. The crashing surf breaks up the quiet, as does the call of seagulls from further down the shore.

For a while, neither says anything, and nothing in the air feels different. It’s enough to make Rin purse her lips. 

“Maybe we should have gone north on the beach,” Waver murmurs eventually.

“No,” Rin says. “We know that this all started southwards. We should keep with th-” 

They stop at the same time, bodies tense. Lingering prana.

“It’s about five hundred meters further south of us,” she says tersely. “Towards my right.”

Waver breaks into a run at Rin’s words, and Rin joins him, keeping pace rather than rush ahead. Five hundred meters later, there’s a faint electric blue glow coming from under the sand, and Rin can’t help but stare downwards.

“That’s a crest’s glow,” she gawks, taking several steps back. “It burrowed into her _bones_ \--”

Waver copies her exactly, and he fumbles for his mobile phone. “Could’ve been how the body was burnt.”

“Maybe,” Rin says. “We should take a better look though, just to be certain. I guess I’m digging on my own?”

Waver nods, offering his bandaged forearm. “Probably not best to tempt fate.”

“Probably not,” Rin agrees, before dropping to her knees.

The sand softens the blow, and with all the grace she can muster, she begins to dig through damp sand. It’s heavy, thick stuff, but Rin forces herself to focus on the task at hand. As layers of sand disappear, the glow only intensifies, until Rin’s finally removed enough sand to reveal a femur bone. For a moment, Rin simply stares down at it, trying to make sense of the delicate lines and circles that have engraved themselves on the bone.

 

Unlike her own circuits - neat, orderly, with perfect right angles - the ones on the bone wander, turn unexpectedly, grow thin, then thick again, and Rin imagines that this is the shape of the magecraft the family passed down. Whatever the family specialty was, it was elaborate, and complicated, and gorgeous. The sound of knees cracking means that Waver’s crouched down beside her, just as entranced.

“Do we try and move it?” he asks.

Rin shakes her head. “I don’t know. We don’t know what touching this could bring upon us.’

“Well,” Waver says, reaching into his trouser pockets and offering Rin a vial of iron filings. “We’ll have to risk it.”

“Hand me the salt container that’s to your right. I can coat my palms in the iron, and we can see if packing this in salt will help.”

Rin takes the vial while Waver fiddles with the cannister, first unscrewing the top, and then ensuring that the iron and iron dust have coated her palms thoroughly. The container is nudged against Rin’s feet.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Waver says, standing up. 

Taking a deep breath, Rin reaches down, and grabs the exposed bones with both hands. For a moment, the prana within feels warm, like a friendly fire in the hearth, before turning into ice. Rin falls backwards onto the sand, bone having refused to move. 

“ _Shit!_ ” comes Waver’s voice from behind Rin, and the world is suddenly that much colder.

The reason why is obvious as Rin struggles to her feet. Over the bone is the ghost from before, her arms outstretched. Behind her, the waves crash with more force than before, and Rin almost screams before she realizes the tug on her hand is from Waver, not the ghost.

“We’ve got to destroy that crest,” Rin says breathlessly. “Now.”

“Distance,” Waver snaps. “Get us distance first.”

“From the bone?!” Rin yells, the wind beginning to pick up as well.

“Well, we’ve already made it angry! And we need a new plan!”

“Fine!”

Waver runs ahead this time, towards the rocky outcroppings that lead from the beach onto the grasslands. There’s enough to make for decent cover, and Rin knows she can get herself there with a good reinforcement spell. 

With Waver ahead, Rin turns her attention back to the ghost. The silence from her is terrifying, as is the way that the waves begin to move further up the beach. It is a small mercy that the wind the ghost seems to command is keeping Rin’s hair out of her face, and allows her to focus her gandrs accordingly.

“This iron better help,” Rin murmurs as she lets out a single shot, followed by a barrage of them. Underneath her skin, the Tohsaka family crest glows, humming with prana and all too eager to continue the spell. 

Watching the gandrs connect, seeing the ghost stagger and stumble, Rin reinforces herself, the prana now warm within her and making her entire body sing. Moving as fast as she can, she dives behind the same rocks as Waver, her face grim.

“We’ve got probably,” she says, poking her head out from the rocks to check where the ghost is standing. “Two minutes. We’ve got to destroy that crest.”

“We need to package it up in salt and get it back to William,” Waver corrects tersely. “Not destroy it.”

Rin groans. “We’ve made it furious at us for touching the thing, do you think we’re going to be able to bring it all the way back up the island without issue?!”

“Yes!” Waver splutters. “Rin, we’re looking at someone who was murdered by other people because of the fear of magic. Destroying that crest makes us no better!”

“It’s a matter of public safety, and you know it,” Rin snaps back. “If we don’t stop this ghost, and the Association finds out that we were called into assist and had a chance to do this and refused, what do you think is going to happen to us, huh!? We escaped a sealing designation after we took apart the Grail. We aren’t going to get that lucky again!”

Waver leans his head back against the rock, and grimaces. “Fine, you’re right. So how do we destroy it?”

Rin cranes her neck out and around the rocks again. “Our friend’s about 100 meters away. Keep running - I’ll dart over, destroy the crest, and that’ll be that.” She pauses, then adds, “ _Don’t_ let it touch you again.”

“I won’t,” Waver promises, getting to his feet. “Shall we?” 

“We shall,” Rin agrees, following suit. 

She watches as Waver pokes his head around the other side of the rock, cautiously, then takes several steps forward. 

“Excuse me!” he calls out politely, and Rin waits until it’s clear that he has the ghost’s attention. “Miss? I believe we met before?”

For a split second, Waver turns to Rin and nods, before turning and starting to head further inland. There’s no time to see if the ghost has floated past the outcrop - Rin trusts that Waver’s distraction will be enough, and begins to run back towards the bone. There’s no time to waste, and she spurs herself forward, reinforced body leaving deep footprints in the soft sand below her. The wind whips in Rin’s face as she forges ahead, and she groans as salt spray from the water begins to threaten her eyes.

“Damn,” she mutters, forcing herself to keep looking ahead. The wind stings as she moves forward, and Rin knows that her running speed isn’t helping.

It is, she thinks, a miracle that there’s no other hindrances as she returns to the hole. Crouching down beside it again, Rin grabs the now overturned salt container, and tries to salvage what she can. There’s no way to tell if pouring the remaining salt on the bone will help, but she does so just in case it gives a slight advantage.

There’s no time for Rin to look over her shoulder to check on Waver’s progress. With the bone salted, she pulls out her gem pouch, and selects the biggest, greenest gem in the bag. Focusing herself, Rin passes the prana through her own crest. It glows the same blue as the crest on the bone in front of her, the same energy flaring beneath her skin, moving down her arm into the gem. It glows an electric green.

Pressing the gem to the salted bone, Rin begins to force her own prana through the older crest’s channels. It resists, and cold threatens to move into the jewel itself, pressing against Rin’s prana and circuits and will, replacing the warmth with ice.

“I think not,” Rin says to the bone, doubling up her energy. Taking out a second gem with her free hand, she presses it to the bone as well, forcing the prana in at both ends of the femur. Keeping herself focused, Rin starts a spell she developed for taking apart the Grail, meant to slow down an enemy’s prana so that responses to an attack could be delayed.

In a single moment, Rin feels the resistance subside, and her prana flow through the bone’s crest. It fills the channels, and it’s mercifully easy to fill them up until they overflow. The bone begins to crack, and Rin forces more and more of her own energy through, until the femur splinters entirely, into sharp, long shards interspersed with small, delicate pieces.

“Waver!” Rin cries out, finally looking up from her handiwork. “Waver?!”

A figure dressed in red waves from the distance, and begins to run forward. Rin lets him, choosing to flop backwards onto the sand instead. Damp as the stuff is, Rin is glad for the moment to rest.

Waver comes into view, panting and face horrified. “Are you okay!?” he asks, immediately crouching beside her.

“Fine,” Rin replies, waving a hand at him idly. “Is our ghost gone?”

“She was about to catch me again, then disappeared,” Waver says, looking from Rin to the smashed femur. “Well done.”

A grunt comes out of Rin rather than a laugh. “For something you were against, I’m surprised at the compliment.”

“It was the right call.”

“Say that again?”

Without looking, Rin knows Waver’s rolling his eyes. “You were right,” he says. 

Rin slowly props herself up on her elbows, and smiles. “I know.”

“It does, however,” Waver continues. “Beg the question of what to do with the crest remains, and if we should check and see if there are any other fragments.”

“Call William and let him make those decisions?”

Waver nods. “Good idea.” He finally looks up from the hole, and out towards the water. “Water’s calmed.”

“So’s the wind,” Rin adds. “He should be able to hear you on the mobile.”

With a soft _thwump_ , Waver joins Rin on the sand. “I’ll give it a few more minutes, just to be safe. I think we’ve earned that.”

“And then some.”

***

The mug of tea is warm in Rin’s hands, and never has she felt so relieved to be seated on a sofa, her shoes off, looking at a pile of bones on a coffee table. Waver is beside her, his good hand clutching at his own mug, and Rin knows that the look of exhaustion on his face matches hers. William, for his part, stands over the table itself, arms crossed, staring down at the contents.

“This is all you recovered from the beach?” he asks, gesturing down at the table. The salt container - now filled with the shattered femur - sits atop a mix of other bones, including a few pieces of rib, part of a jaw, and a finger.

“Yes,” Rin confirms. “We dug for about an hour and a half, but this was all we were able to find. I’m sure that other parts of the skeleton are elsewhere on the island, or otherwise still at sea.”

William breathes out, and seats himself in the armchair that sits across from the sofa. “You both did very good work here. I admit though, I’m surprised that the ghost was able to do as much as she did.”

“Well, the crest _was_ intact,” Rin says. “Not that you could have known based on the attacks alone.”

“Nor could you have been able to destroy the crest alone,” Waver adds. “The minute that Rin touched that bone, she appeared. You would have been found dead of frostbite.”

There’s a nod of agreement from William, and he turns his attention back to the contents atop the coffee table. “Able to control the water and the wind, plus use an existing ghost story to her own ends to lure people in and maintain her energy,” he murmurs. “She must have been a very good mage.”

“Maybe there are trial records in the surrounding areas,” Waver says. “I’d be interested to know who she was.”

“As would I.” 

“What are you going to do with the remains?” Rin asks. “And the crest?”

“The remains of the crest I’ll have to destroy more thoroughly,” William replies, not bothering to disguise the sorrow in the decision. “Everything else I’ll bury on the property. Something dignified. I can keep an eye on her too. But,” he continues, tone swinging back to it’s usual good cheer. “I believe we should eat well tonight, and that means beginning dinner now. Unless either of you have a complaint about staying for another night?”

“No, thank you, that sounds like a good plan,” Rin says, as Waver shakes his head _no_ in agreement. 

William leaves without another word. It’s silent permission for Rin to slump against the arm of the sofa, letting the exhaustion she’s been restraining finally manifest. 

“I vote we rest before dinner,” she says. “I can change your bandages after we eat.”

“All right,” Waver agrees, placing his tea mug down on the table. “You gonna bother heading upstairs?”

Rin responds by putting her own mug down on the side table, and swinging her legs over the side so that they’re resting on Waver’s lap. “Nope.”

There’s a laugh as Rin closes her eyes, and she can feel Waver shift underneath so that his own legs are on the cushions as well. If he says anything else, she doesn’t hear it.

***

Rin places her forearms atop the ferry railing, and leans forward. Beneath her, the engine hums, propelling the boat further and further from Lismore. Between the water and the sky, the island is nothing more than a stretch of green between two brilliant shades of blue, and as they move further and further away, Rin can’t help but feeling relieved.

Feeling Waver’s presence to her right, Rin lets out a tired sigh. “How long until we’re on the mainland?”

“Probably about forty minutes,” he replies.

“How’s your hand?”

From the corner of her eye, Rin can see Waver flexing his fingers under the bandages. “Better than it was. Reines will, of course, have my head for getting injured when she hears about this.”

Rin laughs, imagining the Archibald family head catching sight of the bandages and flying into a righteous fury. “Want me to tell her what happened?”

“I wouldn’t say no.” Waver smiles at the offer, his attention fixed on the island. “I mean, I’ll have to explain that we agreed to this at all because of owed favours, but the injuries and such--”

She nods. “I’ll provide cover. Mind, I’ll need a little help when I tell Yurika what happened too. She’ll react like you did when I tell her about destroying the crest.”

“Consider the favour returned,” Waver says, nudging Rin with his shoulder. 

Rin smiles, and nudges his shoulder in response. “Thanks.”

**Author's Note:**

> The [BBC article](http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-scotland-29689688) in question and the [origin of William's ghost story.](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lismore,_Scotland#Myths_and_culture)
> 
> As always thank you to Pentience Road for the beta.


End file.
